Introduction:
Are you familiar with the theory of multiple realities? The basic idea is that for every decision that you make, somewhere in another reality you made a different choice; you chose door number two, you called that number, you told them how you really felt, you actually sent that e-mail, you really did hit that guy right on the jaw. Well, this is the story of what didn't happen, not in the story you know, this is the story about a different set of choices, a different set of circumstances, and the way those choices change us, and how we are changed by them.
This story takes place during Harry, Ron and Hermione's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Dark Lord has risen, and Harry has once again fought with him and lived, but this time at the expense of his beloved god-father Sirius. However, once upon a time, in one version of reality, one choice was made differently, and it literally made a world of difference.
Chapter One: A Little Courage
It was long past midnight, but the windows of Malfoy Manner had yet to be dimmed. Narcissa sat bent double on a silk covered couch, her long blond hair falling nearly to floor, obscuring the red eyes ruined makeup and tears that still fell from her eyes. Malfoy paced by the fireplace, his pale face frozen in an expression of fear and terror. Narcissa let out a half choked sob and he stopped his pacing, and knelt before her, taking one of her long fingered hands in his own.
"It will be alright. They won't be able to keep father in Azkaban very long, the Dark Lord will rescue him, you'll see, everything will be fine." He said, trying to catch her eye through the curtain of her hair and her tears.
"It will not be fine." She hissed, pulling her hand from his and getting to her feet, she swayed slightly and he put out his arms to catch her, but she caught herself and walked to the fire. "The Dark Lord will let him rot there, just to prove a point to the others about his loyalty during the years He was out of power. The Dark Lord will do nothing unless we can prove that your father is still useful, still necessary."
"How do we do that?"
"There's nothing I can do, but there is something you can do. Something you have to do. There is no choice now, it has to be done."
"What is it mother?"
She turned to him, and he was repulsed by her. Her hair was sticky from her tears and stuck oddly to her face, her mascara had run down the length of her boney face and the black around her eyes made her look hollow and empty. Her red eyes magnified by her tears caught his and he was transfixed, and terrified by the madness he saw in this person he loved so dearly.
"You must take your father's place Draco." She reached out her hands as quickly as a snake and grabbed onto his arm at the wrist. She held on so tightly he thought her nails might pierce right through the skin. "You must become one of them, a Death Eater. It's what your father wanted, you must take his place and take on any task the Dark Lord asks of you, and in return you must ask for your father back. It's the only way Draco, Draco my dear, dear boy, do it for your mother. You have to. It's the only way. In the morning we will go to him, and you will ask to be accepted as His faithful follower. It's the only way."
He tried to twist out of her grip, but she wouldn't let go. The face that pleaded with him, the eyes that hinted of madness, the boney grip that felt like claws, it all terrified him. To see something so familiar, so beloved, to see it so twisted and distorted, it ate at him and turned his stomach. He wanted to badly to make things right for her, to make things go back to the way they had been. It would be so easy to say yes, to do anything to restore his mother to the way she should be, and yet something stopped him.
"No." He said, putting his free hand on top of hers and for the first time that evening feeling tears in his own eyes. "No, I can't mother, I'm sorry but I can't."
She let go of his wrist, looking as if he had hit her, she backed away toward the fireplace and turned toward it, holding her face in her hands.
"Why not?" She asked, turning back around suddenly "Why can't you, don't you love your father, wouldn't you do anything to help him? Don't you love me; can't you do this for me, what kind of son are you? It's the only way!" She screamed.
"I can't" he said, his voice breaking over a suppressed sob, "I don't want to be a death eater. I've thought about it, and sometimes I thought it would be great, and wanted to do it so badly, but I can't. I'm a coward. I'm just a coward, and if I become a death eater I'll be a coward forever. I don't want that, I don't want that life; it's not who I want to be. I already hate myself sometimes, most of the time maybe, and I hate it.
"I can't trade my life for his, I wish I could, I really do, but I can't. I'm just a coward, mother, I'm just a coward, but maybe someday I won't be."